


Bona Fide

by Saeva



Series: Id Est [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Cats, Flirting, M/M, Past Torture, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:56:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeva/pseuds/Saeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of their kidnapping Tony struggles with his guilt, Clint struggles with his body's new limits, and both get to know the other a little bit better leading to something completely unexpected. </p><p>Also, Tony gets Clint a cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bona Fide

**Author's Note:**

> Eventually I will get these two into bed together. I will. If only they'd cooperate. Also, semi-written to fill [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/16019.html?thread=35660947#t35660947) at avengerkink, which asked for Tony and a cat. 
> 
> Plus, I just like cats. Merida looks like [this](http://dailykitten.com/wp-content/uploads/2006/11/1158602514missniki1.jpg) (link from dailykitten.com). 
> 
> There's a line more or less taken/paraphrased from "The Unusuals", a short-lived cop show Jeremy Renner starred in. It's awesome and was cancelled far too soon. 
> 
> Un-beta'ed at the moment. Anyone want to volunteer to beta this series? I'm mostly looking for SPAG.

Clint sleeps the better part of a day, which is partly the Extremis and partly ‘normal’ for him after an ‘episode’ according to Natasha. She doesn’t seem worried, which helps Tony keep the squirming ball of guilt that settled in his stomach from choking him. It doesn’t help his temper as, after food and three hours, twenty-three minutes of sleep Agent Sitwell, the SHIELD liaison to the Avengers, wakes Tony up to go over Clint’s report. Reading what the other man experienced in dispassionate black-and-white detail nearly brings the three cheeseburgers Tony ate on a return visit up his esophagus. 

Being asked for the sixth time why he didn’t use his Extremis-enhanced strength and reflexes to free himself and Clint damn near makes him snap. He wants to punch the debriefing agent -- they have agents dedicated solely to this task and, in Tony’s experience, they’re all assholes -- in the face. 

Instead he answers the damn question again, going over how he’s not on a high enough dosage to have anything more than regeneration that takes care of minor injuries or major injuries over the course of time. He’d only taken Extremis to recover from the two heart surgeries he’s undergone: Yinsen’s emergency care that fucked part of Tony’s lung capacity and the recent one that removed the shrapnel from his heart, causing even more tissue damage. The Extremis corrected that, closing his chest up, fixing his damaged heart, regenerating the damaged lung over the course of a few weeks, but he’d have to take a higher dose for superpowers. SHIELD knows this, Tony even told them himself when they came sniffing around for the stabilized Extremis formula that he wouldn’t give them (or anyone else). 

After that he gets up, making it clear he’s done, and Sitwell orders, “Stark, sit down,” like he actually expects to be obeyed. He tries to go all authoritative but he can’t manage the real dom voice that, say, Steve has and Tony has plenty of experience ignoring that tone anyway. 

So Tony doesn’t sit, stalking towards the door. “You have what you need, Agent.” Then he’s out. Fuck SHIELD and these ridiculous debriefs anyway. Tony hates them on a good day and this is not a good day.

It only takes an hour to move Clint, who sleeps right through the whole transportation with a watchful Natasha at his side, and then they’re _home_. Tony’s finally able to relax a little when they’re both in the relatively safety and protective embrace of JARVIS’s security protocols and since Clint’s still asleep Tony tells JARVIS to alert him when it seems like the other man might wake up and gives Natasha privacy. He desperately needs to clean up and he indulges in a bubble bath before changing into his most comfortable jeans, a long-sleeve undershirt, and his favorite band t-shirt. It’s from a Ramones concert he snuck out to in ‘84, when he was 14, had just been accepted to MIT, and was using the final months living with his parents to be the biggest asshole he could be. It’s a good memory and it’d been a great concert. 

Once he’s clean he settles down to research dissociative episodes, justifying his concern as wanting to be prepared with what to do if this ever happens again. It’s a good reason for a probably unwelcome worry about Clint’s mental state and he’s an hour into the latest research on dissociative trauma when he comes across an after-the-fact suggestion that gives him an idea. 

∂

Six hours later , when Clint wakes up, the idea is lounging in a large carrier, calmly chowing down on some treats. Natasha hadn’t reacted to the large amount of packages Tony brought in, staying only long enough to emphasize the instruction not to leave Clint alone for longer than it takes for a bathroom break. Then she left, he could only assume with the intention of sleeping in her reinforced to the point of paranoia bedroom, and Tony nodded off in the comfortable desk chair Clint had. 

When Clint wakes it’s intense, the only evidence is a slight change of breathing before he’s suddenly sitting up, scanning the room for... something before he relaxes and turns his attention to Tony. And the carrier. 

“What’s that?” 

It seems pretty self-explanatory but Tony reaches down and unzips the carrier, letting the curious spotted cat escape her confinement. She exits cautiously, sniffing the air around her, but doesn’t so much as meow in protest when Tony picks her up and drops her on the bed. 

Clint stares for a moment. “Why is there a cat on my bed?”

“It -- She -- She’s your cat.”

“My cat?” 

The back of Tony’s neck felt heated and he knew if he looked into a mirror he’d be blushing now that he had to explain. Weirdly, he hadn’t prepared for this question. “Uh, it seemed like a good idea at the time? I was reading some --”

“Never mind, I see how you got from there to cat. Companion animal.” He shakes his head. “Usually you ask before you get someone a pet.” 

“I figured if you didn’t like her --” the her that’s currently climbing up Clint’s body to sniff his face, “then I could go with my original plan of getting Pepper a cat. She likes pets but wants something that can travel with her or won’t freak out if she has to travel alone and...” Tony frowns. 

Clint snorts. “No, it’s fine. Here.” He’s speaking to the cat now, shifting her off of his body as he pushes himself up, leaving her one hand to sniff and bat at even then. “I thought Nat might have talked to you. About more than babysitting me.” 

Tony grins a little. “Nope, just about the babysitting. But how do you get from Natasha to cat?”

“She’s the only one who knows I like animals. Always have, ever since I fell in love with this gorgeous tiger the carnival had. I was, like, eight. And the only one she let near her after she lost her cubs during the whole purchasing process.” The image of a wee!Clint being treated like a tiger cub has Tony biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, but the rolling eyes Clint gives him says he knows that and so Tony might as well give in. “Blow me.” 

“Asshole,” he counters. “So, cat, good?” 

“I can’t believe you got me a cat.” Clint frowns as he absentmindedly scratches behind one of the kitten’s gray spotted ears to the tune of loud purring. _Yeah, cat good._ “Though you’re lucky she seems to like me. Sometimes animals don’t click with a person.” She definitely likes him, stretching out half-across his lap, half-across his chest, impossibly long for such a tiny looking kitten. Her belly, Tony notes without really noticing, is white but the faint outline of spots can be seen there too. 

“Really? I figured they’d be cool with whoever was feeding them.” 

That gets a grin. “You’d think but then you weren’t on a long covert op with Nat in Peru. We were playing house and I might have sort of adopted a cat. He kept coming around, like he knew the house, so it started with... Anyway. No matter what she did -- fed him, offered him treats, offered him catnip, anything -- he wouldn’t let her within a foot without hissing.” 

“Huh. Wouldn’t have expected that. Natasha’s half-cat as it is.” The grin from Clint tells him the other man knows exactly what he means. “Playing house?” 

“Not as fun as it sounds. All the domestic responsibilities, none of the action... in any meaning of the word.” 

“You never?”

That gets an almost violent shake of his head. “No, fuck no.” 

“Fuck no?” 

“I met Nat during a period in her life where she was still routinely seducing men into bed so she could kill them. Black Widow’s not just a cool codename. If it ever came to that between us it wouldn’t be like sparring.” 

“I’ve seen you two damn near break each other while ‘sparring’,” Tony points out, though he’s suddenly revising every fantasy he’s had of Natasha into Do Not Touch territory. 

“Physically. It’s a big difference. Did you think Nat and I are together?” 

“The thought had crossed my mind. Pretty sure it’s crossed everyone’s mind and I know Steve thinks you’re sharing a floor because you’re, like, spy-married or something.” 

Clint mouths ‘spy-married?’ but lets it go with a small shake of his head, picking up the cat to put her in his lap now that he’s resting against the headboard. “No. Even if I didn’t prefer men most the time Nat’s... not my type. For a lot of reasons.” _Prefer men._ Tony blinks. _How has he been living here for nearly a year and I didn’t pick that up?_ He finds himself mentally going over every interaction with Clint in the last few months with rapid-fire reanalysis and knows he’s been quiet too long when the other man asks, “Did I break you? I wouldn’t figure you’d be the one with issues over me being bi.” 

“I’m not. It’s not that. It’s -- Ow!” He glares down at the cat who’s made the leap over to the chair, claws fully extended to keep from slipping off his lap. His very much unprotected and now smarting lap. Clint cracks up, covering his mouth to hide both the sound and the smile as his shoulders shake with laughter. “Ha ha. Fuck. That hurt.” 

“Did you get the stuff to go with her or just the cat and carrier?” Tony glares because of course he got stuff. “Did you get claw clippers?” 

“Uh, not sure. I told the clerk to pick out anything a cat might need. Ow! Stop kneading my dick!” He picks up the cat as that sets Clint off on another round of laughter. “Blow me, Barton, and come get your cat.” 

“Sure. Now she’s my cat when she’s causing trouble,” Clint teases but he slips out of bed to come pick up the cat, cuddling her to his chest. “Oh, you’re just a sweetheart, aren’t you, Merida? Here we go. This blanket is nice and soft for you to knead.” After he puts her down he glances down at himself and sighs. “Uck. Okay, I need a shower and another change. I didn’t get much of a chance to clean up in medical.” 

From the way he moves with the cat Tony can see they missed a stripe of dried blood behind the other man’s elbow and he takes a deep breath. He hates this, that Clint got hurt on Tony’s mission, not something for himself or the Avengers but just Tony. 

By the time he’s calm Clint’s down to black SHIELD-standard pants and Tony has never before appreciated how well those things clung to the rather defined contours of the other man’s ass. The boxer-briefs he slips down to next, about as body shy as Tony is apparently, cling even closer and he has just enough time to drag his eyes up before Clint turns around. The younger man’s frowning slightly, like he’s not quite sure why Tony’s still sitting there, and sure enough he says, “Uh, I’m going to shower.” 

“I’m not stopping you, but Natasha was very, very clear what would happen if I left you alone.” 

Clint rolls his eyes. “I’ll leave the door open. If I need help, I’ll shout.” 

That seems like a good compromise and Tony didn’t _really_ need the temptation of the man naked and drenched like every bad shower-centric gay porno that’s currently banging around his head on repeat. “Yeah, sure, sounds good. And, for the record, I have no problems with it. With you being bi. It’d be a little self-hating for me. I’m surprised I never noticed, is all. Of course, you never bring anyone back here so...” 

“I haven’t dated much since...” Clint waves a hand, dismissing it, even though they both know he means ‘since Loki’. “But now I’m surprised you managed to keep this out of the gossip rags.” 

“Wasn’t always easy but I couldn’t afford it when Stark Industries’s biggest contractor was the Department of Defense.” Tony shrugs. “And afterward, there was Pepper.” 

“Now that you’re post-weapons and post-Pepper?” 

“Haven’t had the time. And aside from, uh, the week we all agreed would never be mentioned again I haven’t been looking.” 

Now he glances over at the cat to have somewhere else to look because, unlike when he had only Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, and JARVIS to judge him, he has a whole team now where his behavior reflects on them. Steve, still Rogers and Captain Asshole back then, had made that perfectly clear while shouting about Tony’s inclination to stick his dick into any woman with a heartbeat. Which was exactly what he’d done after he and Pepper realized, mutually, they worked better without the sex they were barely having in the first place. Tony’s not sure if it’s better or worse that he wasn’t blackout drunk for most of that week so much as overreacting.

Clint cackles. “I think you made Steve’s face turn six different shades of purple. It was hilarious.” 

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that, Barton?” 

“I’m an asshole full-stop, thank you very much, Stark. Don’t underestimate the level of my assholeishness.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” They share a grin. “Go, shower. You look like something ‘Merida’ dragged in, Princess.” 

“You’re going to have to stop calling me that. She’ll get confused.” Clint goes over and pets the cat in question, who’s now curled up and napping on the offered blanket, before heading toward the bathroom. He leaves the door open as asked and Tony goes out into the hall beyond the bedroom, rooting around for those clippers Clint mentioned. How hard could it be to clip a cat’s claws? 

By the time he returns, shutting the bedroom door behind him, the cat’s nowhere to be seen. Then there’s a shout from the bathroom and before Tony can think about doing anything else, like calling in, he’s there. “What? What happened?” But a glance at the shower, which is steaming in a way that totally doesn’t suggest hot water, tells him. “You got in while the water was still cold, didn’t you?” 

“And then I started fucking glowing,” Clint agrees, pulling the shower door back and peering around it. He sticks out a hand to emphasize his point. Sure enough, it’s glowing with a faint tinge of fireball orange. 

“Happened to Pepper too,” Tony tells him. “Just don’t touch the shower controls while you’re still glowing, you can melt the plastic protecting them, and next time wait for the water to warm up.” He’s waiting for a reply when, bizarrely, he hears a meow from _inside_ the shower. “Is the cat in there with you?” 

“Yeah. She’s laying at the far end where the water level’s lowest. What sort of cat is this, anyway?” 

“Not sure. I got her from a shelter, not a breeder. She’s at least mostly Bengal though, whatever that is.” 

For some reason that makes Clint laugh and coo, “Little wild cat, huh?” presumably _to_ the cat and not Tony. “I would have figured you for a breeder sort.” 

“I’m in talks with a breeder about that whole cat for Pepper thing but the kittens aren’t due for another month. Plus, figured you’d rather adopt a cat.”

“I am the type to pick up strays, I suppose. Now, out. I’ve stopped glowing.” 

“Careful pushing the controls too hard, too. You’re stronger than you used to be.” 

“Am I?” Clint looks through the shower door’s gap, his hair plastered against his forehead and half his very wet, very tempting torso showing. He’s grinning wickedly and his words match. “Kicking Steve’s ass is going to be so much fun.” 

Tony can’t help but be a little gleeful at that. He’s known for a while that the two of them share a dislike of Steve’s management style, though it’d surprised him that Clint, a soldier of a sort, was bothered by it. He’s never asked though and now he does (and if it also gives him a good view for a minute longer he won’t complain). “What exactly did Steve do to get a bug up your ass?” 

“Lovely imagery. Really.” Clint rolls his eyes. He twists around for a moment, giving Tony a better view of his side and hip and perfectly defined pelvic bone and strong legs and suddenly Tony knows exactly what he’s jerking off to next. After a moment, Clint comes back, holding the kitten, who looks a little drenched save her head but is purring. “She’s been rubbing against my shin since I said ‘cat’. Aw, aren’t you sweet? And giving you baths is going to be so much easier than expected.” Tony hides a smile at the weirdly adorable way that Clint coos at the small bundle of fur in his arms and the other man picks up the conversation again, “It’s not that I don’t like Steve. He’s nice enough and before the whole Chitauri thing he trusted Nat when she said I was on board and off brainwashing, which a lot of people wouldn’t have done.

“It’s just... he doesn’t get my casual approach to... pretty much everything but especially violence. He’ll kill if he has to, we’ve seen that, but if you’d asked him to come along on this whole destroy the weapons’ depot thing, he’d have said ‘no’, right?” 

Tony nods because he had asked the last time, when Clint and Nat were both out of the country doing something best not asked about. Cap had said he wasn’t comfortable with hunting people down like that. Tony hadn’t seen how it was different from hunting down hydra bases, which they’d done with great relish during the years Cap was involved in WWII, but sometimes he could be odd about those things. Outright war he understood; terrorism and guerilla action still caught him up. 

“Because there might be civilians working there, in the warehouse the depot’s using for cover, and because killing people who aren’t outright offering you violence doesn’t sit well with him,” Clint reasons. It’s pretty spot on, actually. Steve also doesn’t like that Tony’s doing this alone instead of tipping off the ‘proper’ authorities so they could corroborate JARVIS’s findings. Tony trusts JARVIS’s findings just fine. “If he had proof they’d used the weapons it’d be different, I’m sure, but preventative action bugs him. I’m... He thinks I should value human life more. It feels like he’s judging me. I’m probably being ridiculous.” Clint sighs and rubs a hand over his face before setting the cat down outside the shower. She strolls right back in, of course. “I need to finish this. I’ll be fine now that I’m not glowing.” 

“Cool. I’ll be right outside.” Tony leaves before things get awkward and considers what Clint said. 

The man’s tour de force prior to joining the Avengers and (mostly) quitting SHIELD had been assassination, which is all about preventative measures. Natasha’s skills, from what Tony had seen, varied more; she has an almost unnatural ability to blend in wherever she wants to until she doesn’t. She is, without a question, a spy. But Clint isn’t, not really, though he’s done infiltration work when necessary before, it seems. 

By the time Tony has a handful of questions about what Clint actually does, besides shoot things with his bow, the other man strolls out of the bathroom with one towel wrapped around his waist and another drying off one very wet kitten. He drops the kitten, still half-wrapped in the towel to the sound of pitiful meows to be picked up again, on the floor when he reaches his closet, picking out clothes to change into. The dresser is next; by now Merida’s freed herself and is trailing behind him like a duckling. And then Clint’s dropping the towel right there, right in front of Tony. 

And Tony, always half an idiot when he has sex on the brain, blurts out, “You have a great ass.” It’s true. All the gym time Clint spends keeping in peak condition is definitely worth it. 

Clint looks over his shoulder for a moment before turning back around to tug on some underwear. Half-bending down to tug on some underwear. He has to know what this looks like. And when he does turn around it’s pretty clear he does from his smirk. “Is that a general observation or a declaration you’d like to fuck it?” 

“Uh.” The smart thing to do is apologize. Of course Tony doesn’t do the smart thing. “Both?” 

“I expect a date first, for the record. I only bang one-night stands without managing an actual date.” Clint cackles a little at the expression that must be on Tony’s face and then returns to getting dressed. He’s managed to pick out his tightest jeans, Tony’s sure, and a grey shirt that clings to every muscle. 

When he’s done ogling, which takes longer than it normally would (it’s been a long time since he’s fucked a man and he’s always gone for the muscular, can throw me down on the bed types), he asks, “Dinner or something more original?” 

“Well, you asked, kind of, so your call.” Clint picks up the cat again and coos at her, letting her cling to the shirt without a complaint about those sharp little claws, and says, “C’mon. Let’s see what you got for her.” 

They spend the rest of the afternoon setting up a complicated cat tree that’s more like a cat playground in the walk-in closet attached to Clint’s bedroom that he’s been using to, apparently, stockpile ordinance. When Tony asks if he’s expecting some sort of assault Clint quips, ‘Consider me a boyscout’, and starts moving the weapons to different places in his suite instead. The clothes he shuts in one of the cabinets meant to hang suits. Tony’s a little confused that someone can own so few pieces of clothing that works. Clint protests that most of them are interchangeable so why would he need more? And that’s how the rest of the room becomes a kitten wonderland. 

By the time dinner rolls around Tony’s wondering why Natasha insisted someone stay with Clint for the next 48 hours when the other man seems fine, surprisingly so given he’d been tortured not 24 hours ago. Then, as they’re working their way through too much Chinese food, he just... stops. One minute he’s eating orange chicken and the next he’s put the chopsticks down and is sitting there, unaware even when Tony tries to grab his attention. 

Tony’s about three seconds from freaking out, again, when he remembers Natasha wanted someone with Clint. This must be why so she’ll know what to do. He has JARVIS alert Natasha to what’s happening and she’s there less than two minutes later, watching Clint for a moment before she starts moving sharp objects outside of his reach. 

“Why did you just do that?” 

“Sometimes he does things he can’t explain when this happens. He took a knife to himself once. The first time he did it after joining SHIELD he attacked Coulson when Coulson approached him,” she explains calmly. “It’ll pass. For now someone needs to make sure he isn’t handling anything dangerous when this happens.” 

“Can’t he make a weapon out of pretty much anything?” 

“Given time, yes, so don’t give him time.” That’s about when Merida decides to join the party, coming out to sniff at the new addition curiously. “What’s that?” 

“You’d think nobody could recognize a cat when you see one,” Tony jokes. “It’s Clint’s cat, Merida.”

“He doesn’t have a cat.”

“He does now.” 

“That’s what those packages were about. Your errand. You bought a cat.”

“Adopted one, actually.” Talking to someone during this actually helps, he finds. He can look away from Clint and pretend this is perfectly normal. He won’t freak out. “Figured he’d like that better.” He smirks. “He’s already cooing at her and calling her princess.” 

“He’s always liked cats.” She sits down in an empty seat at Clint’s small kitchen table. “He will be fine, Stark. It’s how he processes things.” 

“Doesn’t have nightmares and panic attacks like the rest of us?” he half-jokes. He’s got enough distance from his own attacks, the one relapse yesterday not withstanding, that he can joke about it. 

“No. He shuts down. He processes.” 

“He can hear you talking about him right here,” Clint says suddenly. “Ugh, sorry. Kind of zoned out there. Wish I could say it won’t happen again but that’s why I’m on babysitter watch for the next, what, 38 hours still?” 

“38.5,” she corrects. “I’ve met your new cat.” 

Who meows at the mention of the word cat, prompting Clint to scoop her up into his lap and cuddle her. “Isn’t she gorgeous? Sweet, too. Her name’s Merida.” 

“Stark told me.” Natasha cocked her head slightly, then added, “She fits you. A little wild but sweet when tamed.” 

Clint laughs. “Bite me, Tasha.” He always calls her Tasha when they’re joking around, sharing inside jokes and significant looks the rest of the team can’t decipher. There’s more than one reason everyone thinks they’re fucking. “Hey, did you know that the team’s convinced we’re fucking little bunnies down here?” 

Tony coughs a little to cover a sudden laugh and shoves some barbeque pork in his mouth to avoid being drawn into this for at least a minute if he chews slowly enough. 

“Rogers has implicated as much given our ‘bond’.”

“Yeah, apparently he thinks we’re, like, married or some shit.” Clint shakes his head. “Can’t be friends with a beautiful woman without wanting to get in her panties, huh?” 

She smiles tightly but she’s clearly amused. “He hasn’t gotten the memo that you’re not the type of guy to stare at a woman’s boobs. Even when they’re great boobs.” 

He cracks up, his face lighting up with laughter, and it takes a minute to calm down. During which Tony can’t pretend to be chewing anymore. “Pretty sure the female part of SHIELD considers that my most redeeming quality.” 

“And I know for a fact that some of them find it very frustrating that you’ve never noticed them.” 

“I notice people,” Clint protests. “Have those ‘some’ ever bothered to introduce themselves or am I supposed to be psychic now too?” 

“You never did get women, Barton.”

“Not the ones that think having a dick makes me psychic.” He shakes his head again and puts Merida down before she reaches the orange chicken she’s straining for. “Hey, where’d you set down her treats, Tony?” 

“The prep table in the kitchen.” He gets up to go get those, delaying being involved in talking about Clint’s theoretical dating life a little longer, and delivers the treats to the other man a minute later. 

“Thanks. Here you go, princess.” Clint offers the treats down to her and the pitiful meowing stops. “That’s a girl.” The way his face softens when he’s talking to the cat is still adorable and makes something in Tony’s chest clench up. He’d like to see that expression on the other man more often rather than the emotionless features of the stone-cold killer Clint can be when the situation calls for it. 

Natasha’s watching them when Tony glances back, her expression contemplative in a way that probably doesn’t bode well. And sure enough the next thing out of her mouth is, “Have you asked him out yet, then?” 

“Couple of hours ago, Nat. No need to go big sister on me.” 

“Mmm.” She fixes him with a look that conveys exactly the sort of ‘big sister’ she might be if Tony fucks this up and he swallows hard. 

“Message received.” 

“So stop intimidating him,” Clint adds, pulling her attention away. “I wouldn’t have said yes if I thought this was a fling thing. I learned my lesson with Haynesworth, trust me.” 

“Do I want to know?” Tony asks.

Clint winces. “Rather you didn’t. I was nineteen and an idiot. I won’t judge you on your past, you don’t judge me on mine. Clean slate, deal?” 

That sounds extraordinarily fair and Tony nods. “Deal.” 

“Good.” The archer goes back to eating, letting Natasha steal his broccoli with beef, and the conversation dies naturally as they work to fill their stomachs. 

Tony spends the time thinking of date ideas. He wants something nice but not too flashy. He wants to make this work.


End file.
